And we'll all float on
by yaba
Summary: Time pushes forward unwaveringly, but the past is never far behind. Jane and Lisbon somewhere in the distant future. Written for the JF August Challenge.
1. Part I

**And we'll all float on**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Lyrics by Paramore, title stolen from Modest Mouse.

Rating: T

Spoiler: None, just set in the future.

A/N: This is my submission to the Jello Forever August Challenge. The prompt is "past tense" and this could be considered a figment of my imagination that veered severely off course (as usual). It's also maybe a little AU, but you can be the judge of that. This is a two-parter, and I will post the conclusion shortly. Thank you to Five Roses for doing such a great, meticulous job editing this so quickly for me, I really appreciate it! I hope you guys enjoy.

xxx

"_I've got a tight grip on reality  
But I can't let go of what's in front of me here…"_

The sun beats down on her and the sand burns her bare feet, but the breeze, carrying with it the scent of the ocean, trumps her discomfort. Therefore, when he finally notices her, dark blue eyes squinting in her direction, she's wearing a peaceful smile, soothed by the sweet smelling air around her.

Still, the moment passes swiftly, calm replaced by a flurry of nerves and apprehension as she sees him halt at the sight of her. She hasn't seen him in a while, but regardless the unadulterated surprise on his face makes her even more anxious. A bead of sweat travels down her back, but she can no longer blame the heat.

Her feet prickle but she makes no move to come closer, and neither does he. Instead, they stand yards away from each other, separated by nothing but the breeze that blows loose strands of hair into her face and toys with the loose tail of his shirt.

She's not sure what she expected to find, but the absence of his three-piece suit unnerves her, throwing into stark relief the memory of how everything turned out, what they went through. If there's one piece of advice she's always held onto it's that it's useless to ignore or try to outrun the past.

It always catches up.

And isn't that exactly why she's here in the first place?

The thought propels her forward.

Imbued with newfound courage, she takes a few steps, closing the space between them. She doesn't tear her eyes away from his and in them sees a flicker of irony, the same she's feeling right now.

It's inescapable that between the two of them, she's the one who always makes the first move, the one willing to step in and effect change; the one willing to fight.

He's the runner.

His gratitude and shame are unmistakable but she ignores them; the novelty has worn off. Besides, she can't deny that she's missed him, which is even more apparent now by the way her heart begins to beat more rapidly as she comes closer, until she's certain he can see it beating out of her chest as she stands right in front of him.

He still hasn't moved an inch, just stares intently at her and for some reason the pure concentration etched on his face, creasing his forehead and tightening his mouth, is so familiar, she can't help cocking her head to the side, and smiling at him.

"Surprised?" she finally asks, bemusement coloring her words.

He doesn't respond, but the twitch of his lip is enough indication that he's slowly recovering.

"What? Did you really think I wouldn't be able to find you?"

The teasing paired with her dancing smile seems to rouse him from whatever comatose state he was in previously and the moment he breaks out into a full blown grin, she feels a surge of comfort so potent it's almost like being inebriated against her will.

His eyes rake over her for a moment, reacquainting him with the features that used to be familiar but have faded from his memory over time and she feels scrutinized under his stare, also impossibly inadequate.

Even his suits couldn't conceal his kinship to the beach bum lifestyle, but barefoot in ripped jeans and a shirt, he looks like he's lived in this bungalow his entire life. The realization is painful, because she knows _she _doesn't belong here. She belongs in one place and one place only.

Back in Sacramento, in her air conditioned office, behind her desk with a badge and gun at her hip. She certainly doesn't belong _here _with him, not anymore and the overwhelming urge to flee makes her limbs twitch, flight instinct so intense she nearly flinches when he touches her.

She looks at him stunned for a moment, almost prohibiting herself from indulging in the pleasant roughness of his skin as he runs his thumb over the inside of her elbow, but she doesn't fight back, _can't_ because it feels so good to be this close to him again.

And he knows she won't back out now, because he can't either. Regardless of how much distance he puts between them, she's still the last person he thinks of when he falls asleep and the first face that flashes in his mind when he wakes up.

And just like that, his resolve breaks and she finds herself crushed against his chest. He smells like soap and sea salt and she inhales deeply, committing the scent to memory as he holds her close.

Comfort seeps through her bones and spreads like anesthetic, muscles instantly relaxing in this embrace. The feel of him so strong and solid paired with the muted thump of his heart against her ear prickles her eyes, but she resolves not to cry, not even from relief.

She's shed far too many tears for him already.

Still, the sting doesn't disappear as he whispers in her ear, breath warm and voice slightly teasing.

"Of course I knew you'd find me. I never had any doubt in your abilities, Agent Lisbon."

Laughter is her response, a quiet chuckle laced with sarcasm, but it's contagious and he can't help smiling as well.

And for a moment, the heat isn't so stifling.

xxx

As soon as they break apart, Jane ushers her inside. Lisbon notices that despite his attempt to conceal it, he can't stop smiling and she can't help being relieved.

Away from the glare of the blaring sun, she can see more clearly how age has touched him, but despite the added creases around his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth, she's never seen him look younger, or livelier.

For an instant her heart twists painfully, but she pushes the ache aside, resolving to relish the moment. She waits patiently as he prepares tea, and even though it's nearly a hundred degrees outside and she's drenched in sweat, she welcomes the steam rising from the mug after Jane places it in front of her.

They sip it in silence for the most part, exchanging small talk occasionally, but mostly just taking in each other's presence. He seems genuinely glad to see her and it warms her. It doesn't burn like the sun does, but instead makes her feel cozy, comforted, fills the void she's tried hard to ignore.

She knows they have much to talk about, but as usual, with them it's always about everything that remains unsaid, so she doesn't even push it and can tell that he's thinking the same thing. Eventually, the fatigue from her journey catches up with her and the thin cotton dress begins to stick to her skin, making her feel unclean.

She's just about to ask where his bathroom is when Jane unexpectedly swipes her cup off the table and tells her that she should take a shower while he makes dinner. The security of his hand wrapped around hers and the promise of cold water dispel any resistance from her.

The water feels heavenly on her skin, nearly cleansing her not only of the dirt, grime, and sweat of the last few days, but also of any anxiety she might be feeling. Being here, surrounded by his things, using his shower and his shampoo, fills her with contentment.

When she steps out of the tub to find that her dress has been replaced by a t-shirt and shorts, she's immediately transported into the past. Flashes of him in her apartment, invading her personal space despite her objections, being fully aware that letting him anywhere near her would be dangerous, blurring the lines between friends and…

Still, she smiles fondly at his persistence and even more at the t-shirt he's chosen for her. The logo of the movie _Police Academy_ is nearly faded but she gets the subtle tease and quickly puts it on. She leaves the heat of the bathroom not even thinking twice about the fact that she didn't lock it while she was in the shower.

"Funny." She gestures toward her t-shirt upon entering the kitchen.

He turns around, leaning against the counter. "Yeah? I thought you'd appreciate it."

Instinctively, she rolls her eyes, then slides back into her chair and rests her chin on top of her one knee. With dripping hair and a face devoid of makeup, she's never looked younger to him or more vulnerable. The urge to pull her into his arms again hits him unexpectedly and he turns around before she sees the fracture in his armor.

Lisbon doesn't notice his consternation, still taking in her surroundings; there are so many questions lingering in her head, but she barely has time to sort her thoughts before Jane's sing song voice breaks through her reverie.

"I hope you're hungry," he chimes, placing something steamy and spicy in front of her. She inhales the potent aroma, senses awakened by the smells mingling in the air; her stomach growls in response.

"Actually, I _know_ you're hungry, I just hope we don't have to go through the usual denial, because you will inevitably eat this."

The food is way too tantalizing for her to be annoyed by his comment, so she simply smiles and picks up her fork, stabbing a shrimp purposefully in response. Jane merely smiles self assuredly and begins to eat.

The Cajun stew is spicy and delicious, and they split nearly a whole loaf of bread mopping up the sauce. They end up sitting way too close to each other, stealing glances and talking quietly, but every so often he looks at her in _that _way and she once again finds herself catapulted into the past. Memories of dinners in her kitchen, quiet talks, him walking her to her car, fully aware that they were constantly pushing the line between what was acceptable and…

Once deeply embedded in her mind, these recollections refuse to leave and not even the inebriating pull of the strong local Bourbon tumbling in her mug can stave off the stark sobriety that slowly creeps up on her.

The sun is far below the horizon when they make it out to his porch and Jane refills her after dinner spirit without asking. It's been hours since she laid eyes on him for the first time in a little over a year and he still hasn't asked her any questions that a normal person would.

How she found him.

Why she found him.

What she came here for.

And suddenly, no amount of jambalaya or heavy liquor can put off her irritation with him. The location and the people may have changed, but he's still just as infuriating as ever, waiting for her to bring it up, refusing to be the one to make the first move.

As if it hasn't been clear already that he never does. It grates her, makes her simmer with anger. Isn't it enough that she sought him out? Isn't it enough that she never told anyone where he was hiding? Shouldn't that be enough for him to give her the answers she needs without having to pose the questions?

She wants to scream at him and yell, unleash all the pent up hurt and frustration she's bottled up inside for so long, but she doesn't.

Instead, she drains her glass and throws him a cold look.

"I should go."

But she makes no move to leave.

He looks a little surprised but is also probably aware that she's not going anywhere and that this is a slightly amateurish attempt to let him know that she is peeved with his silence.

"Nonsense, you're staying here."

"No, I'm not. I have a room booked in the city."

He chuckles at her, takes a sip of the bourbon and shakes his head. "Liar."

_Smug bastard._

The blue stare doesn't unnerve her as much as it informs her that there's no room for arguing so she relents begrudgingly.

"Fine, but I'm sleeping on the couch."

She looks ahead so she doesn't notice Jane smirking at her triumphantly, considering her agreement a small victory. He studies her face only a moment longer before shifting his eyes to the horizon.

Later, after he hands her the bedding and linens, there's a brief awkward moment of silence where neither knows what to say. Eventually, he bids her good night and walks towards the hallway, but hesitates at the last moment and turns around.

Lisbon is too busy arranging the blankets to notice him so his voice comes as a surprise, especially in the dimness of the living room.

"I don't know how long you plan to stay, but I'm glad you're here."

She barely has time to register his words or meet his eye before he's disappeared down the hall, and she realizes with a chagrined gaze at the lumpy sofa that any chance of sleeping tonight has just been shot to hell.

Only half an hour later, Jane reaches the same conclusion as he lies on his back, staring at the ceiling. His insomnia has become less severe since he moved down here, but tonight his mind will not relax long enough for him to fully sleep. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't allude to anything important, waiting for her to make the first move, whether it's justified or not, and now he can't help regretting his slip up.

Still, despite the baggage that comes with her unexpected arrival, he can't deny that a part of him is pleased. After all, how many times has he wished for her presence in this house, the sound of her melodic voice lingering through the rooms, infusing them with laughter and excitement?

The thought fills him with a contentment that he hasn't felt since the last time he saw her and despite being unable to sleep through almost the entire night, the knowledge that Lisbon is in the next room, warm and solid and real, gives him all the rest he needs.

xxx

It takes a whole day for reality to disrupt their perfect existence. At some point before sunrise, Jane manages to doze off and wakes up to unfamiliar smells wafting from the kitchen. It's been so damn long since someone has cooked for him, least of all Lisbon, so he steals a few forbidden moments to watch her from the safety of the hallway as she hums to herself, scraping the rest of the eggs onto a plate.

Lisbon seldom cooks but when she does, it's delicious and he savors the time they have over breakfast, entertaining her with stories of the locals he's met here and drawing comparisons between life here and in California.

He's careful to avoid any heavy topics and Lisbon is more than happy to follow along, still not brave enough to pursue what's really on her mind. She's still holding on to the faint hope that he will broach the subject first, take the first blind step, so she chooses her words meticulously, asking neutral questions that can't possibly connect to what they both need to address but still can't.

They spend the afternoon outside, first at the beach, then the local farmers' market, where Lisbon notes that Jane is a regular judging by all the greetings he receives from vendors. Two-thirds of them are women and she has to smile inwardly when she realizes that regardless of where he is, or how he's dressed, the man still has the same affect on the opposite sex.

The looks she gets are almost comically envious and a flutter of excitement settles in her stomach; she tries to ignore it as best as she can but even she's not immune to female pride.

The thought actually pops into her head as they walk back home, but she waits until they've eaten, the dishes have been washed, and they're once again on his porch. It's the second sunset she's witnessed here but the novelty hasn't worn off yet. She wonders if it ever will but swallows the idea and concentrates on how beautiful and peaceful the horizon seems, trying not to think about how she wouldn't mind spending the rest of the foreseeable future watching this every evening.

"Why here, why this place?" She breaks the silence and Jane immediately looks over at her, wearing an expression of contemplation before he shrugs and tips the beer bottle to his lips.

"I don't really know, to tell you the truth. But I'd been here once before, after Katrina, and I saw how devastated it was, yet how tenacious the people were-…"

"So you found that it was a good place to rebuild?" she cuts him off only because she knows where this is going and can't quite figure out how to restrain her anger.

It becomes suddenly clear to her that he has no intention of coming back and the realization stabs her like a knife, then twists slowly, painfully in her chest. In the silence that follows, Jane tracks her thoughts, aware of her discovery but incapable of feeling guilty for it, regardless of how selfish that may make him.

"Yes, perhaps that was part of its appeal," he confirms and feels his own nick of discomfort at the flash of hurt and betrayal on Lisbon's face. It becomes a test of wills, them staring at each other without uttering a word, but eventually his tenacity weakens and he leans forward, grasping her arm like he's reaching for his last lifeline.

Lisbon flinches away.

"Don't," she cautions sternly, green eyes suddenly cold and guarded. "This was a mistake."

It's just a murmur but the hurt she tries so hard to replace with anger is now completely on display. Despite his desire to change though, a part of him is still arrogant, still sadistic, still yearning to get a rise out of her.

Jane doesn't physically stop her when she tries to go inside the house, but he's always known that words are his most valuable asset.

"What was a mistake? You never did tell me why you came here."

Her body stills immediately and the look she throws over her shoulder lets him know that she's well aware of his taunting, but the resolve in her posture also indicates that she's not going to let him break her…not this time.

"It doesn't matter why I came here."

Lisbon has one foot inside the door when he appears by her side, gently taking her hand off the knob. The contact sends a line of goose bumps up her bare arm but she ignores it, stares at him instead, willing him to try anything else.

As the detective in her reasserts herself with a cold jade stare, Jane feels an unmatched rush of adrenaline.

"Yes it does matter. I didn't ask before, but I'm asking now."

His voice is softer now, seemingly more vulnerable, but she knows him, knows to keep her defenses up. Instead of granting him an answer, she shrugs his hand away and enters the house, headed straight to the bathroom to grab everything she's left there.

Jane realizes what she plans to do and feels the first real stirrings of anger penetrating his calm façade. He knows he has absolutely no right to be upset with her; moreover, he has no claim on her and thus should let her do as she pleases, but damn it, he's a selfish bastard and she just got here.

He can't let her go.

_Won't._

So he doesn't.

She's strong, but he has height and weight to his advantage so he somehow manages to trap her in the hallway, arms on either side of her, warm breath skirting her cheek as she stares at him in defiance. He knows she's not scared of him. If she wanted to, she could have him tackled to the floor in a matter of seconds. No, the fear lurking in her eye is completely different.

She's not afraid of physical harm.

She's terrified of him breaking her, tearing down her character, disabling her defenses as he's been known to do. His remorse is unexpected but not enough to make him stop.

"I told you, it doesn't matter why."

Jane steps away only slightly and Lisbon takes the opportunity to reach the bathroom, pulling her toiletries out of their resting place. He's never felt quite the desperation he does now, as if he's watching something unstoppable unravel. For a moment, he realizes why his father always preached the importance of not forming attachments to people; much less falling in love…it makes you weak and irrational.

"Of course it matters. You can't just come here and then decide to run when it's convenient for you."

Lisbon freezes at his words, her toothbrush clutched in her fist as she gives him one long, icy stare before smirking humorlessly. "Why not? You did."

For a moment, he feels like a trapped fly in a spider web, the sting from her words hitting him hard. A part of her feels terrible for needling him, but it's rare that someone gets to one up Patrick Jane and she absolutely cannot resist.

"Don't preach to me about running away when you're the one who's perfected the art."

"Don't say that," Jane counters, jaw clenched and eyes blazing at her, but beneath his stern mask, she sees the effect she has on him, is aware he hasn't quite confronted his own issues yet.

"Why not?" Her lips curve into a somber smile as she narrows her eyes at him.

"It's the truth, isn't it? You ran because you were too afraid to face the consequences of what you did, and you left all of us to deal with it. Well, in case you decided to come back, which I now see you won't, I came to let you know that you're a free man again. It was ruled self-defense."

She doesn't wait for him to say anything and rushes past him out of the bathroom, leaving a gust of wind in her wake. It only takes a moment for everything to click and he finds her in the living room, hurriedly stuffing her duffel bag.

"Is that why you came here?" he asks quietly, realizing that anger isn't the best course of action with her, not after what she has revealed.

Lisbon stops folding, "I came to tell you that the investigation was closed, that's it."

It's a blatant lie, she won't even look at him as she says it, but instead of it infuriating him, it nearly disarms him as the full implications become clear to him.

The urge to touch her, confirm that she's indeed real, is too much and Jane reaches out. It's only a featherlike brush on her shoulder but it's enough to induce a shiver from both of them. Lisbon drops the t-shirt she's holding and turns to him.

"You're a sensible soul, Lisbon. Don't expect me to believe you came all the way here just for that."

"Don't expect to know who I am now."

She jerks away from his touch again, but it's a lackluster attempt and she only backs away enough for her legs to hit the couch, peering at him with indignant eyes.

Jane isn't daunted. Instead of shying away, he pulls her even closer, wrapping one arm around her waist until her breasts are pressing against his chest. He runs his other hand through her hair, no longer concealing his adoration, his gratitude for her presence here.

"I'll always know you," he whispers against her lips and in an act of final resignation, Lisbon rests her forehead against his chest, letting all her well crafted defenses melt away. He doesn't say it in a condescending or pedantic way; neither does he want to get a rise out of her this time.

Instead, his words are spoken as if they're a fact, something as obvious and unchanging as the color of the sky. Their pure honesty softens Lisbon completely, crushing her entire arsenal of resistance.

She can't stop it, doesn't think she even wants to, because being in his arms again, especially after everything that's happened, is too good to pass up, and isn't this why she came in the first place?

A tiny part of her was impossibly curious and intrigued by the opportunity to see him, be this close to him without the specter of their past demons looming overhead. She has wanted to experience this since the second the Red John case was closed, and now, despite her anger and her anguished acknowledgement that this very likely will not last, she doesn't stop herself from succumbing.

Instead she fists his shirt and melts into his embrace, letting Jane support all her weight.

They don't say anything for a long time and Jane doesn't push her, aware that it's taken enough out of her to even let him hold her like this, but with every passing second, his desire to tell her how he truly feels and has felt about her for a while prompts him to break the silence.

He's just about to finally tell her everything, let it all out regardless of the consequences, when Lisbon beats him to it, with words designed to melt his heart.

"I missed you so much."

It's just a whisper, spoken into his chest, but it resonates deep within him and when she lifts her head off his shoulder, peering at him with shy green eyes that sparkle with unshed tears, he knows that no amount of words can ever suffice.

So he does the only thing that makes sense in the moment.

It's actually not their first kiss, no, that title is reserved for a messy, half inebriated lip lock from years past, but that seems almost frivolous now. No previous kiss could ever feel as good and as unburdened as this one.

As his tongue swipes her bottom lip, seeking entrance into her mouth, Lisbon responds without hesitation, because she knows regardless of what happens now, it won't be an external force standing between them but issues of their own making. While the thought would terrify others, Lisbon feels nothing but sheer joy at the prospect.

The moment Jane kisses her, all his control vanishes and years of shunned desire spill out of him, attacking with a force that leaves both of them shaking. He wants to stop at least for a moment, just to make sure he's not misreading her, the least he can do after everything, but his common sense is rendered completely useless as she deepens the kiss. All thoughts of restraint and concern and hesitation disappear, leaving nothing but Lisbon behind, the way she smells, the way she tastes, the way she shivers in his arms.

And it's as if the last year never happened, as if the entire time they worked together he wasn't plagued by a vengeful quest, as if right now, nothing exists or matters besides them and the sound of the waves crashing and the last streaks of orange sunlight spilling across the horizon…

xxx


	2. Part II

**And we'll all float on**

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Lyrics still by Paramore, title stolen from Modest Mouse.

Rating: T

Spoiler: None, just set in the future.

A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for all the great reviews on the first part. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you enjoy the conclusion. Thank you to Five Roses for doing such a great job editing. I appreciate it!

xxx

_"You are the only exception_  
_And I'm on my way to believing..."_

Lisbon wakes up to the faint tapping sound coming from somewhere inside the house. Despite her lack of sleep, she's oddly alert and immediately registers that Jane is surprisingly dead to the world beside her. She dresses quickly and goes to investigate the origin of the disruption before it pulls the former insomniac out of much needed rest.

Although she's spent about three days here already, she is still surprised to locate another entrance to the house, a door through the kitchen that leads to the main street, which is where she encounters the source of the noise.

"Hello."

The boy pauses with his hand poised to knock again as Lisbon greets him. The detective in her instantly sizes him up, the dark, tanned skin, the cropped black hair, and lanky build. He looks to be no more than nine or ten years old and when he speaks, she realizes he's most likely a local.

"Hi, who are you?"

His dark hazel stare is marred by suspicion and confusion, but his childlike innocence and curiosity makes Lisbon smile and she leans down just a little, extending her hand.

"I'm Teresa, what's your name?"

He looks down at her hand for a second, hesitating.

"I'm a friend of Patrick's by the way," Lisbon adds tactfully and that seems to change the boy's entire demeanor. His eyes light up, and he breaks out into a grin, grasping her hand with firm enthusiasm.

"Patrick's my friend too, I'm Mal-…"

"Malcolm, my man, what's going on?"

Lisbon doesn't notice Jane walk up to the door until he greets the boy. Discreetly, he circles her waist, affectionately squeezing her side. She smiles at him from the corner of her eye.

"Mimi and Lou sent me to check on you, because you missed this morning's class."

Lisbon glances over at Jane to find a confused, blank expression on his face.

"Today is Tuesday, don't you remember?" Malcolm adds and this time the mischievous glint in his eye is hard to ignore. Fondly, Lisbon deduces that he must not be the best behaved or disciplined kid, something she thinks he and the man standing besides her may have in common.

Jane finally comes to and smiles brightly at Malcolm. "I must have slept through my alarm," he explains, and only Lisbon seems to note the innuendo in his tone, which causes her to shake her head slightly.

Malcolm waits restlessly, eyes flitting between them until Jane leans forward and addresses him.

"Tell you what, give us like fifteen, twenty minutes and we'll be right over, okay?"

It's not supposed to feel this good to have him say "we" and "us" but Lisbon can no more help the flutter in her stomach than she can her budding curiosity.

Malcolm seems satisfied with the response and takes off down the street on the bike he had dropped by the sidewalk.

"Good kid," Jane murmurs fondly, watching until Malcolm rounds the corner. He shuts the door a few minutes later and Lisbon turns to look at him, arms folded over her chest. "Okay, explain."

But it seems Jane has no intention of doing so. Instead, he traps her against the door and kisses her deeply, holding her without an inch of space between them.

"Shower first, explanations later," he murmurs playfully against her lips after they break apart. Despite being a little winded from their kiss, Lisbon still arches her eyebrow at him amusedly.

"Are you sure showering is a good idea right now? You did promise the kid you'd be there in twenty minutes."

The half smirk playing on her lips and the way her green eyes sparkle mischievously are enough of a challenge to his self control, but Jane smiles nonetheless, nuzzling her neck affectionately.

"Are you implying that once I get you naked again, I'll suddenly forget all my prior commitments?"

His candor sends a jolt of arousal all the way down to her toes, but not to be outdone, Lisbon grabs the hem of her t-shirt and unabashedly pulls it over her head. "You be the judge of that," she teases triumphantly as she watches Jane's eyes darken.

Still, she has barely any time to revel in her victory as Jane removes the remainder of her clothes and pulls her towards the hallway. The concept of time is lost on them both as soon as he shuts the bathroom door.

xxx

She watches as Jane captivates a group of wide eyed school children with a certain sting in her heart. Back when they worked together, she loved observing the way Jane handled himself around kids, especially those that had suffered loss or sustained trauma.

He was always gentle and sweet with them, also a little teasing when it was appropriate, and in the process of focusing solely on them, he always left himself unguarded, exposing his rarely seen vulnerability.

Now, any joy she may feel is trumped by the cold revelation that this is yet another sign that he has no plans of coming back to Sacramento. He's not just hiding here, waiting out the aftermath of his (poor) decisions. No, this is his home now. He has a house that's decidedly lived in, and friends, regardless of how little they are, and now she's learned that he has a job.

He's putting down roots and it absolutely petrifies her, because if she's honest with herself, she'd imagined that she would find him in a state of bare existence; instead he's thriving in this place…(without her).

The classroom suddenly feels a little too claustrophobic and she slips out discreetly, hoping not to draw attention to herself.

The long, empty hallway leads to a backyard and she ends up perched on a bench overlooking the playground. The children's rehabilitation center is adjacent to a preschool, but it's not quite lunchtime yet so the playground is empty, giving Lisbon a much needed reprieve.

The quietude calms her nerves a little and she closes her eyes, breathing deeply. Having spent most of her adult life living in temperamental Northern California weather, she can't help being completely seduced by the warm, mild climate of the South. It's early September, but summer refuses to give way to autumn and the only indication of an approaching seasonal change is the soft breeze that keeps the scorching midday sun at bay.

However, not even the serene atmosphere around her can stop her thoughts from churning and she flinches involuntarily when a tentative hand lands on her bare shoulder. Lisbon looks up to find a pair of troubled blue eyes peering at her.

She manages a smile, but Jane sees right through it and slides onto the bench next to her. "You know, I've been doing this for about seven months now and I have never had someone walk out during a session."

"That's because most of your audience is under the age of twelve," Lisbon teases, stealing a glance in his direction.

"Are you saying that I should broaden my horizons?" His voice is light but he doesn't hide his concern, reminding her that despite their banter, he hasn't forgotten that something is amiss.

She sees the question at the tip of his tongue but knows that if he asks, she won't be able to lie, so before Jane can say anything else, she leans up and wrapping one arm around his neck, kisses him.

When they pull apart, she runs her thumb along his jaw, an act of affection meant to divert his attention.

"No, you're doing a great thing here."

The distraction seems to work at first; Jane leans over and presses a kiss to her temple in thanks. Yet, when he pulls back, Lisbon notes that his expression doesn't waver.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah."

She nods, smiling, but Jane remains unconvinced. Still, he doesn't press it further and Lisbon is grateful.

They'll have to talk at some point, but not on such a beautiful day, she reasons.

xxx

"I can't stay."

They're lounging on the back porch again, the sun dipping beneath the orange horizon, when the words slip unwittingly from her lips, now suspended in the dusky silence.

It's only been a week and a half but the end of her self-imposed hiatus is approaching, bringing with it a new dose of reality that she can't ignore. Although spending time with Jane, ensconced in their own little world, seems to be exactly what she needed to scrub away all the dirt and grime of the last year, the knowledge that this will inevitably come to an end unnerves her more and more each day.

She's in love with him, has been probably for a long time, but instead of being overjoyed about it, since she's almost certain the feeling is mutual, Lisbon feels the small seeds of anger and bitterness sprouting with every sunset she witnesses here.

She doesn't need to confront him to know that Jane has no intention of coming back, but a part of her is still impossibly frustrated with him, not even so much for how quickly he disappeared after what he did last year, but more for his current behavior.

It's clear that he's letting his past dictate his present and although she's always known in the back of her mind that him getting his revenge would not make his demons disappear, she can't let go of the fact that he's savagely holding onto them, refusing to let go. She wants to help him, she does, but a part of her is also incredibly hurt by how effortlessly he has lived here, detached from everything and everyone (her) he used to know.

Perhaps it's the simple acknowledgement, the very belief that while she's spent the last year oscillating between regret and hurt, he's been creating another life for himself that finally drains her patience.

As soon as she says it, she feels Jane stiffen behind her, but she doesn't turn to look at him, instead stares straight ahead, waiting.

"I know," he finally murmurs, brushing a few strands of hair to expose her neck. The kiss he presses behind her ear makes her shiver, but she suppresses the tingle rushing through her veins. Whether he means to or not, his show of affection only irritates her further.

"That's it?"

She turns so she's no longer in his arms, but rather facing him. This time, Jane is fully confronted by the display of her ire, which she's barely restraining.

Despite them not really discussing any future plans, he's known from the moment Lisbon arrived what her intentions were, and selfishly he didn't press the issue because having her in his life again was too great an indulgence to pass up. He hadn't realized how lonely he was or how much he actually missed her until she showed up on his doorstep, and he'd so easily fallen into his old routine with her that now as she stares at him with blazing jade eyes, he's not even sure what to say.

He's in love with her, has been for quite a while now, and the realization that he's likely been hurting her all this time makes him ache in a way he's only ever experienced in connection to his past. There's not a day that hasn't gone by in the last twelve months that he hasn't thought of her: how upset she must be, how angry and abandoned she must feel. But his family and Red John are also never far from his mind, and it's those thoughts that keep him in a stranglehold, not letting him move forward.

"What do you want me to say?"

Jane realizes it's probably very foolish to incite Lisbon further, but reasons that their eventual separation will be easier to handle if she's angry at him. In the last week, she's managed to completely surrender her heart to him and he's going to squeeze it until it bursts, because he's a damn coward.

Predictably, her posture falters as she expels a humorless chuckle. "Well there's a lot I want you to say, but I doubt I'm going to hear any of it."

They haven't fought in so long, she's almost forgotten how easily Jane can rile her up and before she knows it, her fists curl resolutely at her sides, rage gripping her like a vice.

Still, somewhere in the back of her head a little voice reminds her that she's survived much worse than this. One doesn't lose both parents before the age of seventeen without growing a thick skin and she'll be damned if Patrick Jane will be her final undoing, even if his silence is slowly chipping away at her already fractured heart.

"Anyway, I have to be back at work by the end of next week and since I'll likely be heading back alone, I figure I should at least take some time to visit my brothers."

She doesn't wait for him to say anything, and gets up to go inside, but Jane grabs her arm, not letting her go far.

"It's not like that, you know."

His calm tone spurs a surge of anger, replacing any sympathy or understanding she may feel with pure indignation.

"It's exactly like that."

They're standing face to face now, but her lack of height doesn't diminish the force of her rage. The air grows thick with tension.

"You can stay here and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist for as long as you like, but unfortunately the rest of us cannot afford that luxury."

And once again, it's not about what she says but about what she doesn't say. Flashes of what they _could _have flood his mind but the past is never too far behind and he wills the tantalizing promise of a future with Lisbon away, shaking his head.

"You think that's what I'm doing here? Just deluding myself into a peaceful existence, because I'm too afraid to face the consequences of what happened?"

In all their years of working together, Lisbon has never seen the former consultant become quite so livid so quickly and it's obvious that she's struck a nerve, but any compassion she may have felt has long since been sapped from her, leaving nothing but her survival instinct behind.

"You've made it painstakingly clear by your absence that what I think doesn't matter to you."

The words sting more than he'd like them to, effectively bringing up issues he thought they'd both moved past by now. Jane suddenly remembers a time when he'd been able to honestly say that he would be there for her no matter what; the realization that he's no longer able to do that feels like someone has punched the air out of him.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Lisbon," he snaps back and can see the spark of fire alighting in her green iris, which only provokes him more.

"Not a day goes by that I don't think about what happened, that I don't wish I had at least said goodbye to you. Just because I'm elsewhere doesn't mean the events of that night don't haunt me, doesn't mean that I don't wish for things between you and me to have gone differently. But you need understand that I-, I can't regret what I did. I made a promise a long time ago that I was going to avenge my family and I did, and regardless of anything else, I can't feel any remorse for it. I can't."

"I never expected you to regret it."

Her reply is simple but exact, blindsiding him and delivering a blow that knocks him off balance. Just like that, his anger dissipates, replaced by a sinking realization that he's been wrong about her thoughts this entire time.

"I know you had your reasons for what you did, Jane. I've had years to come to terms with the fact that you would get your revenge in one way or another. I'd only hoped that somehow you'd come out alive and you did. But then you left and I was angry for a long time, but now, now I see it doesn't even matter."

Her arms are folded over her torso and she's looking at him just as fiercely as before, but the hint of defeat in her expression is unmistakable and the desire to draw her closer and rewind the last twenty minutes is impossibly attractive.

He wants nothing more than to hold her again, but a part of him already feels it's too late for that, so he doesn't back down, simply stares her down as he asks,

"And why doesn't it matter anymore?"

He's not sure what he's expecting, but the way she hesitates at first, worrying her lip between her teeth for a moment sends a cold rush skittering down his spine, as if foreshadowing something terrible.

It doesn't help that she steps closer to him; disheartened emerald gaze searching his face as she gently runs her thumb across his cheekbone. Her touch soothes him in spite of their argument and he nearly reaches out to hold her, but something in her expression, a twinge of regret, halts him.

"You're letting the past control you, and as much as I care for you, I can't watch someone else I love self destruct because of something they can't change."

As Lisbon speaks, Jane begins to feel as though he's been injected with a heavy dose of morphine; he can't think or speak or move, mind unable to grasp how quickly everything is unraveling between them again. His heart aches in almost the same way it did when he walked away from her without so much as a goodbye, but this time it's so much worse, because she's staring at him with those huge defeated eyes, hanging onto a shred of futile hope.

He's too broken for her anyway, he reasons, too damaged, and she deserves better, but he knows his thoughts are merely a ruse, a way to justify not fighting for her when he should. For a moment, he's tempted to do just that, but it passes, and he watches unmoving as Lisbon presses a kiss to his cheek and retreats into the house.

It hurts like hell, but she walks away, because she's tired of putting others, especially him, before herself and she's made too many first moves already. It's his turn.

As always, it's about the things they leave unsaid between them, and she realizes almost as soon as she steps into the living room, hands unexpectedly shaking, that the past is too difficult an entity for Jane to part with.

(Just like her father)

Still, she doesn't leave right away.

Instead, she gives him a few hours, holding onto the vain hope that she's wrong. However sometime in the early hours of the morning, without the soft breeze and the warmth of the sun, reality sinks in much faster and Lisbon makes the split second decision to gather her belongings and go.

She casts one look over her shoulder, before slipping out the front door. He never said goodbye to her either.

From inside his bedroom, Jane hears the sound of the door clicking shut and a sense of urgency passes through him, but just as quickly, it vanishes into the shadows on the ceiling.

He hesitates only briefly before turning over to face the wall.

xxx

She doesn't go visit her brothers.

Instead, she buys a travel guide at the airport, extends her sabbatical, and spends three glorious weeks attempting to forget Patrick Jane on the streets of Paris, Madrid, and Tokyo.

It doesn't work of course, but when her plane touches home soil Lisbon feels refreshed and more unburdened than she has in years, actually excited at the prospect of returning to work; something she hasn't felt since the bullpen couch became vacant.

She even misses the relative disarray of her house, and vows to stop living out of cardboard boxes and actually take some time to decorate.

A fresh start of sorts.

She's too busy flipping through the thick stack of mail to notice that she's not alone in her living room until she flips on the lights and freezes instantly by the door, nearly grasping it for support.

It's as if time has effectively frozen, as if the last year hasn't happened, as if this is just another ordinary evening, her returning home from work exhausted to find him sitting in her living room, sipping tea.

His gray suit jacket hangs neatly over the back of her kitchen chair, and the only indication that he spent thirteen months living in a bungalow on the beach is the tanned skin of his forearms, contrasting nicely with the rolled up sleeves of his starched white shirt.

As soon as their eyes meet, Jane stands up and walks towards to her, lips curving upward as he watches her intently. The sense of déjà vu is so strong, Lisbon simply stares at him with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

"What?" he asks, now grinning wider. "You didn't think I'd find you?"

The memory flashes in her mind instantly. Him, frozen in surprise, the sun blazing down on them, as she tilts her head, asking him the same question seemingly an eternity ago.

"What are you doing here?" She whispers, still in mild disbelief.

Jane stops smiling, clearly struggling with his response, but Lisbon doesn't say anything, she just waits. Despite the flutter of warmth, there's knot of fear and apprehension that stops her from reaching out to him. She hasn't forgotten anything.

"You were right," he says finally, but it doesn't alleviate her worry. "I was so determined to start fresh elsewhere that I didn't understand that all my decisions and thoughts were guided by what happened in the past. I hadn't truly realized it until you showed up."

Lisbon stands, motionless, absorbing his words, and Jane takes a tentative step closer, afraid to scare her off as she watches him ambivalently. She can feel the first spindles of forgiveness start to twine around her, but a part of her still can't let go. She knows that regardless of what happens now, it will require a leap of faith and trust on her part. She needs reassurance that he won't disappear on her again but she may not get it.

The question is whether she wants to take that chance with him or not.

"If I had seen that you were truly at peace, I never would have said anything."

"I know." Jane nods, a wistful smile forming on his lips. "That's the thing about you. I might be good at reading other people, but you are the best at reading me. You know things about me that even I don't recognize and I only realized this recently."

He's looking at her somewhat expectantly, but Lisbon isn't sure what he wants to her to say. It's difficult to make sense of all this; she was totally unprepared to face him, had been convinced that she would likely never see him again, and now he's here…

After a moment of heavy silence, Jane finally exhales and carefully reaches out to place his hand on her shoulder.

"I know I surprised you today, but I haven't done right by you in so long that it made no sense for me to wait to tell you this. I want you to know that I'm here for good and whether you decide to have me in your life or want nothing to do with me ever again, I'll understand. I just want to make it clear that I want you, more than anything, and if you'll have me, I promise I'll try every day to prove to you that I'm worth keeping around."

He tries to coax a smile from her, but Lisbon is too wrapped up in thought. His words propel her into another memory, her on a train from Paris to London, an older passenger sharing his life story with her in broken English. The conversation inevitably falls on the topic of love and she remembers the sorrow on his face as he tells her that the worst kind of regret comes from not taking chances with one's heart.

And even though she's completely terrified to open herself up again, especially with Jane, she knows it would be horribly hypocritical of her to still cling to the past while asking him not to. The knot beneath her ribcage dissolves; slender fingers reach out to trail along the buttons of his vest, as she peers at him through hooded lashes, a half smirk on her lips.

"So does this mean you're actually making the first move this time?"

It's a jab at him, but Jane knows there's some doubt in it, so he draws her closer, if only to reflect how truly serious he is about this.

"I think it's about time that I do."

Lisbon doesn't say anything, but when Jane threads his fingers through hers, she grips him tightly, realizing that the risk she's about to take doesn't seem so daunting with the past, marked by hurt, regret, and the most breathtaking sunsets she's ever seen, now only a faint memory floating somewhere on a distant coastline, never to dock again.

xxx


End file.
